Lucy closed the door behind her. Rachel was typing on the computer. “One second, Lucy … Okay. Done. You have a breakthrough?”
“Yes. I may need a warrant, but let me lay it out for you.”
“I’m all yours.”
Talking to Dillon had helped Lucy create a logical timeline, so she could clearly outline her theory that the bank manager had lied three years ago that Denise Albright had come to the bank to change the authorization on Kiefer’s account, that there was no physical evidence except for his word that she was there, and that the image he provided was indistinct, at best.
“What is his motive? Are you accusing him of killing the Albright family as well?”
“No,” Lucy said slowly. “Nate and I believe there were multiple people involved in this conspiracy, which may include a law enforcement officer.”
“Well, shit. I hope you have hard evidence to back that up.”
“We will. Which brings me to why Nate isn’t here.”
“I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“We’ve retraced Ricky’s steps the day his family disappeared and believe he’s alive and has been hiding out in Mexico.”
Lucy told her everything about their interviews, showing her the letter from Ricky to Ginny, and what Ricky told Ginny the day the two detectives from the sheriff’s department came to interview the family. Then she told her that Nate had gone down to Ciudad Victoria with Ginny’s father to find Ricky.
Rachel was quiet. Too quiet, and Lucy feared the worst.
“You believe this girl,” Rachel finally said.
“Yes. Ricky didn’t tell her which cop had broken into his house, Detective Chavez or Detective Douglas. But he was terrified of at least one of them.”
Rachel sat there for another long minute, her face blank, but clearly she wasn’t happy with this turn of events. No one wanted to go after a fellow cop—but it was their duty and obligation.
“Tell me about the cops.”
Lucy recapped her experience with Douglas and Chavez, and added, “Honestly, it could be either of them, but Douglas avoided us on Monday and cut our conversation short on Tuesday. We were followed both days after we left the sheriff’s department.”
“Are you saying that one of the detectives followed you?”
“No, I doubt it. The vehicles were unmarked black SUVs. We need Ricky to identify who he saw, and we need his written statement about what he heard when he was hiding in the closet.”
“Which any defense lawyer will throw out. He was nine years old at the time, he’s remembering something that happened more than three years ago. If the prosecution even put him on the stand, which I highly doubt they would, the defense would destroy him without even trying that hard.”
“I’m going to do my job and find evidence outside of Ricky’s testimony, but if one of those cops is involved, we need to take him down. If we go after both of them and only one is guilty, it’ll taint our relationship with that department for decades. Talking to the bank manager—if I can prove he’s lying—could give us the information we need.”
She reminded Rachel about the unclear photo from the border that could have been anyone, and that all evidence suggested that the Albrights were killed that Friday—and therefore Denise couldn’t have transferred the money the following week.
“There’s one more thing. You heard about the shooting at the courthouse.”
“Yes. Your husband was there.”
Rachel did keep her ear to the ground.
“He was hired by an investigative reporter, Maxine Revere.”
“Your friend.”
Lucy hesitated. “Yes. She and Sean have been looking into the Victoria Mills murder, an SAPD case. In the course of their investigation, they learned that my victim, Denise Albright, was the maid of honor at Victoria Mills’s wedding. We don’t believe it’s a coincidence that they are both dead. But we have nothing yet to connect the crimes. So I decided that Nate and I would continue investigating the Albright family and Max and Sean are investigating the Mills murder and they promised to let me know if they find anything that we can use to tie them together.”
“You said it yourself: The Mills homicide is an SAPD case. They have not asked for our help. You cannot involve yourself unless you, through your investigation, have direct evidence that the two cases are connected. If you do, then talk to the detective in charge, give her the information you have, and go from there. Maybe she’ll agree to work with you, you can be convincing. But we have to tread carefully.” Rachel paused. “I suppose there’s no way to encourage Sean to stand down.”
“He’s invested in the case. And they have access to a lot of the Mills financial records through Victoria’s father, who asked Max to get involved in the first place.”
“It’s a tightrope, Lucy.”
“I know.”
“Keep me informed.”
“I will.”
She couldn’t believe it was that easy. She stood up.
“Lucy, did you think I wouldn’t notice that you slipped into the conversation that Nate went to Mexico without authorization or approval?”
She sat back down.
“He took sick time.”
“It’s vacation time, and I don’t know where he went, understand? But this could blow up in our faces.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Put together the information for the warrant and I’ll expedite it, you’ll have it by the morning. I don’t have anyone available on the squad. Laura Williams is done with her part of the trial, take her with you—I’ll talk to Daphne and also ask for two of her agents to back you up.”
“Okay. Thank you, Rachel.”
“Keep tabs on Nate, I want him back in one piece.”
“So do I.”
Lucy ran back to her desk to put together the information for the warrant, relieved and worried.
That was too easy.
Chapter Twenty-two
WEDNESDAY EVENING
Over Skype, Max went through everything she and Sean had learned with Ryan—the theory of illegal gambling going back to college, the accusations of blackmail, the land deals, money laundering. As she spoke, she knew she was right about the big picture, that Harrison Monroe was in the middle of a massive criminal conspiracy and everyone around him was involved in one capacity or another.
It would be extremely difficult to prove it. She had no hard evidence, only theories based on circumstantial evidence.
Sean sat next to her and interjected when he had something to add. Ryan listened, asked questions, took notes.
“As far as a criminal case, the FBI doesn’t have an active investigation into Harrison Monroe—I checked. So if we were going to start an investigation, it would take months to build it. That’s going to have to be done at the local level. Based on what you have here, you might be able to get someone to look, but they won’t be getting a warrant for any of the information you need—not without evidence of criminal misconduct. And on the surface, there is none.”
Max knew he was right, but she didn’t want to hear it. She had hoped for some sort of crumb, something that excited Ryan so that he would dig deeper using the resources at his disposal.